The Lost Heirloom
by Iestyn
Summary: 25 years have passed since the events with Mortmain, but all is not well in Edwardian times. William Herondale must face against the dangers of his unique children, James and Lucie, as threats surface to pursue them. But it is not easy when his son is drawn to the serene Grace Cartwright, ward of an old threat: Tatiana Blackthorn, who wishes the demise of 5 special Shadowhunters.
1. Prologue - James Herondale: The Present

***Based loosely off of _Great Expectations_ by Charles Dickens****, just as it is planned to be***

* * *

I remember the night clearly.

It was the day of Christmas Eve when I was only twelve. All the Shadowhunters of the London Enclave had come to celebrate. I returned on break from the Idris Academy with my new _parabatai_, Matthew, whose family also lived in London. Both of us were in the drawing room with the other children: my crazy age-defying sister Lucie, the obnoxious and wealthy Christopher with his humble yet odd sister Anna, the British-French scarlet-haired siblings Alistair and Cordelia whose dad died four years earlier, and the more auspicious Lightwoods; Barbara, Eugenia, and Thomas, who were the oldest of us all.

I was sitting at a sofa, reading the book my father had told me to read, called _Tale of Two Cities_. I found it in the library, and the first page was a letter my father wrote to my mother. Lucie and Cordelia were fooling around, giggling about Raziel knows what; both Lightwood families sat at the other end playing cards; Alistair and Matthew were racing and making as much of a fuss as my sister and Cordelia.

Cordelia. That night her curly scarlet hair was put up in an elegant bun; she wore a black dress which radiated her vampire-like skin. I looked up from my book to see that she was already glancing at me, giggling as she turned back to Lucie. I blushed and raised my book higher in an attempt to hide my flushing face. I wasn't even focusing on the book, I just had to hide myself. Cordelia was a year older than me, and also the _parabatai_ of Lucie. If she knew I'd feelings for her, Lucie would most likely kill me.

Later that night, after the presents were opened and we had a big feast, it was time for everyone to leave. The Lightwoods went back to their manors, as did the Carstairs and Fairchilds. That night in bed, I grinned. I had to sneak out and give 'her' my present. I could not wait until the next morning, as her father also asked for a certain book from the Institute's library, and he told me that they were traveling to Idris the next morning.

I got out of bed, grabbed the ancient book (which I could not make out its purpose with the chthonic language) and her present. I closed my eyes and my veins tingled. My skin felt as if it were peeling, but at least it did not hurt as the first time I Changed. Changing was different for my mother; she could transform into whomever she had a possession of. It was also different for my sister; she could Change her age. Contrary to the Council's belief, Lucie is actually older than me. In fact, she is as old as Charles, Matthew's cousin. Apparently, my parents had an early affair before they wedded and had to hide the child, raising her in secret. When it turned out her ability was to Change age, we faked her birth a few years after mine. Her primary age, however, is a year above me, so that she could easily be Cordelia's _parabatai_ and annoy me.

As for me, I faded into nothingness. Well, not exactly. I guess you could say I could travel within the shadows of objects. You could call me... Prince of Shadows. Yes, I am quite fond of that title.

As I crept through the staircase and out the main doors, I was stopped by the Institute's guardian, who claimed her dwelling to be in the beautiful yards of our home.

Jessamine Lovelace.

"Why, it is late for you to be out and about, Jamie. If anything, I'd assume it was your mischievous sister."

I cursed. "Shouldn't you be... somewhere else, Aunt Jessie?"

"Why, don't tell me you're off to see the Cartwrights again. It is much too early in the morning for that."

"I've been to their manor prior to this night, Aunt Jessie; you of all people... er, Shadowhunter... _ghosts_, should know that."

Jessamine floated from the arched gates that opened up to the streets of London. She eyed me carefully, and then saw the items in my hand.

"What are these objects?" she asked me.

There's no tricking a ghost. They have the most keen Sight out of all of us that are Downworlder or Shadowhunter, so she had obviously seen through my shadow cloak, including anything that was with me.

"A present for her," I said.

Jessamine laughed. "Why, not that, silly child. I meant... _that_." She gestured to the book I had clutched under my arm.

"Oh, this old book? I don't know, her father Cedric told me he was fond of books like these. Consider it a present for him, too." _So he'll accept my love for her__, _I thought, but don't say.

Jessamine looked uneasy. "I'll be expecting your return soon, Jamie."

I nodded, and ran within the shadows of London.

Street by street, I finally made my way to the Cartwright Manor. It was rather small compared to the other manors. Compared to the wealthy Lightwoods' manor, this was only a fraction. I hurry down the cobblestone path and knocked on the door. A sweet scent filled the air as the door opened.

Cedric Cartwright opened the door. "Ah, James Herondale. A fortunate time it is for you to be here. Please, come in."

I walked in and entered their drawing room, where a cozy fireplace lit up the corners. At a sofa next to a Christmas tree, nothing compared to the size of the Institute's, mind you, sat the Cartwright triplets. I paid no attention to any of their names, but one of them had always caught my eye.

She looked like the oldest of the three, but still, was about my age. Although I was fond of Cordelia, my full love went to this girl. I knew not her name, as I was always too shy to ask. Cedric had never made anything of my affections, so he never told me her name either. Her skin was a slight pink that radiated her very snow-like appearance. Golden ivory hair was put up for the occasion, as Cordelia's had. I was so enchanted by her, I forgot about where I was and everyone else in the room. None of her siblings had an effect such as this.

"The book, James?" Cedric cut through my trance and held out his hand for the book.

"Y-Yes, Merry Christmas, Mr. Cartwright." I handed him the book.

His face was greedy with yearning at this point, and didn't even thank me as he ran down the basement and told his children to keep me company.

I sat across from the three, eyes still locked with the oldest, which were a serene gray. Words would not pour out of my mouth, I most likely looked like a bloody duck.

Then suddenly, a random crash came from the door.

"Open up, Cedric! You may not use the book!"

_Oh no_, I thought. I knew that voice all too well: my father, William Herondale.

The door kept thudding, and the Cartwright children screamed. I had no idea what was going on, and why my father was here.

Then it hit me: Jessamine must have told him. That little...

_CRASH!_ The door broke open and the children ran away from the drawing room.

"Father, why are you here?!" I screamed at him.

Father shook his head from the wet snow outside and locked his blue eyes on me. "I could ask you the same thing, son. Where did Cedric go?"

Before I could say anything, the door to the basement opened. "Right here, William."

I was speechless. A crimson rune was drawn on his face, and radiated an evil pulse. His children stood behind him, cowering in fear.

Father cursed. "I should have sent you to the Clave the first moment I knew what your plan was. Sparing your life was a mistake."

"And I would have gone to the Clave, Will. I would have let them kill be so I could rejoin with my beloved." Cedric gestured to the children. "But what would become of my children? I will not abandon them. They're more dangerous than anyone in the Council could think."

"They are just children!" Father roared. I have never seen him like this. I cowered in fear just as the other children did.

Cedric's demeanor dropped to an icy evil. His crimson rune looked as if it were fighting himself. "Argh... I... No. I must revive my love. We will be once more a happy family."

"You consort yourself with dark magic, Cedric. Do you not see why you are not anymore a part of the London Enclave? Why you are secluded to this small manor the Clave had to replace your family in? And now you are resorting to the most evil magic of all, necromancy! That book had no right to even be in the Institute's library. Give me the book, and in the name of the London Enclave, give yourself in, Cedric."

"No..." Cedric's voice sounded hoarse. Different. The crimson rune seared with energy, and I could hear something crisp. "My love... Eliza..."

He screamed in agony. Cedric still looked like Cedric, but his runes all glowed scarlet. Even the regular ones, such as Clairvoyance. He grabbed his stele and drew a Mark on his palm. I recognized it: it was a fire-rune. One of the few offensive runes, and very hard to master.

"Heavenly fire!" he shouted. The house blew up in flames very quick. Father cursed and said something about children. I was slowly passing out, sure I was going to die that night.

"Now you know what you've done, Jamie." Jessamine's figure glowed within the heavenly fires. "If it weren't for me, you would all be dead. The Shadowhunters would be in danger. Now, come with me to safety."

She picked me up as I knocked unconscious.

* * *

**AN: So what do you all think? Please comment on your opinions and questions, I will answer them in the next chapter! The adventures of the Edwardian Shadowhunters has just begun.**

**And yes, this is based on what we know of TLH from the teaser of the Midnight Heir. Things in this story are non-canon to the actual TLH series, coming in the years to come.**


	2. Chapter I - Grace Cartwright: Old Times

"He left, Mother."

_That foolish, flamboyant, bloody warlock_, I want to say, but hold it in. The warlock named Magnus Bane had just rejected Mother's courteous offer. He even had the nerve to mention James Herondale to me as he left. I wanted to go insane, rip the cursed Downworlder to shreds, but Mother would not appreciate it, as the Shadowhunters of the London Enclave are apparently fond of him.

_The London Enclave is in disorder_, Mother had taught me. _They'd poisoned my father, cursed my son, and wished not to save my husband_. Why else would I reject James Herondale? He is part of the Enclave, he lives in the London Institute. Although he has amber eyes of pure gold and curly black hair, looks cannot tell what kind of person he is. After all, Mother told me he and his loud obnoxious sister were different. They had blood that equaled that of a warlock's. Disgusting.

"And he agreed not to mention of our conversation to anyone?" Mother asks me.

"Yes, I stood my ground also. Not one flinch as he retaliated with the name of that foolish James Herondale."

Mother smiles. Her wrinkles crease, and she nods in approval. "I've taught you very well, my Grace. Now come, we must Portal back to our hideout in Idris. We cannot guarantee Bane's word. As I've told you before, he is consorted with the London Enclave."

I nod. "Yes, Mother." I pull out a seraph blade and guard Mother against the demons that live in this house. Although they are her father's spawn, basically her siblings, they hold a thirst for blood and sometimes cannot contain themselves. One almost scarred Mother if I hadn't sliced just in time.

Mother had beat me for that.

We creep down the corridors and below into the basement's cellar, where old black runes are scribbled ridiculously on the wall, like a dying rose. But no matter; it is the key to our survival. To Mother's survival, and my adoptive-brother's revival.

I block out the image of Jesse Blackthorn.

Mother and I clutch hands as I close my eyes and imagine the fields of Brocelind Plain, and our little cottage at its edge, near the glassy Lake Lyn. I open my eyes and see the swirling light of the activated Portal, and guide Mother through it.

The cottage is still in once piece, thank goodness. Downworlders dwell in these lands, especially the dark of Brocelind Forest. I would have to rebuild the cottage if it was destroyed. I open the door and let Mother in, following shortly after. In the drawing room is our house's guardian, Thomas Lightwood. He's seated, reading a rather boring-looking book.

"Anything different happen while we were away, Mister Lightwood?" I ask him. He has sandy blond hair, a darker one than mines, and piercing green eyes, similar to that of Mother's. After all, he _is_ her nephew, therefore my adoptive-cousin. He stands up; he's almost six feet with a lean hard body. It's only right he would be our guardian and not his fragile sisters, who live at the Idris University. The other Lightwoods, the wealthier family, moved to one of the wealthy Shadowhunter countries years ago, away from the drama of London.

"Nothing at all, Miss Blackthorn." His eyes lock on mine. I never knew why, but ever since I was a child, everyone would always have their eyes stuck on me, distracted in a trance. It was useful when I'd need to kill them, but annoying at other times. I forced his gaze away from me with willpower. He turns to Mother. "Would you like something to eat, Madame Blackthorn?"

She smiles. "Scones, thank you. And don't forget the tea this time as well."

Thomas bows and walks out the room toward the kitchen. I sit with Mother at the dining room table.

"You two are going to go back to the University," Mother says immediately.

I gasp. "But, Mother! What will be of you? I'm your daughter, your ward. You need protection against the Shadowhunters just in case Bane had lied."

"They do not know of this cottage, darling. Plus, I need you two to spy on a certain Shadowhunter and graduate your classes."

I know where this is going already. The certain Shadowhunter is James Herondale. "But he's just going to get even worse when he knows I've transferred back to his school. I do not need more classes, either. I've enrolled for two years, which was enough to make me the warrior I am now."

"Things are going to get worst, Grace. As you know, I haven't been trained to fight. You need to graduate and become the best there is. As for James, surely he's matured by now. I just need you and Thomas to see if his... persona has gone through a change over the years."

I don't mention what Bane had told me about James.

"As you wish, Mother."

As I eat a scone, Mother tells Thomas the plan. We stay up very late at night; Mother says we need to get rest as we re-enroll tomorrow.

I sleep on the ground, with a thin mattress and blanket to accommodate. The golden eyes of James Herondale glower at me in my nightmares.

_Back to the University... back to hell._ I've had a free year traveling with Mother to Downworld sights, learning the dark magic needed for Jesse. Now Mother has decided to just lounge here for a year as I complete my final year here at the Idris University all the way in Alicante. It's not fair. But then again, life is never fair. I've lost my parents, separated from my siblings... I don't even know where they are.

I have a sudden flashback of the fateful Christmas Eve night. I was only twelve. Father had gone mad with some dark magic himself. He's foolish, not smart as my new Mother is. She herself does not perform magic; she has a fortune inherited from Grandfather Benedict to pay warlocks to do it. To suspend Jesse's dying state. Pushing away Jesse once more, I see the flames from Father's odd runes. I still remember their color, a deep crimson. An evil color, if you ask me. I passed out from inhaling too much smoke, and when awakened, I was in the London Institute. I haven't been there since my family moved to our smaller manor house for my dad's crazy ambitions.

My skin was still pure and soft, my siblings had burned their skin and were healing slowly with _iratzes_. It was strange, but no one commented on my skin. Tatiana Blackthorn–Mother–wanted only the eldest of us. I know not why, and do not dare ask. My siblings, on the other hand, were both adopted by another Shadowhunter family. I was separated by my only family. Again, I blame only the London Enclave. Even before Mother told me of their arrogant ways, I hated them. Hated them for relocating my family, hated them for allowing to separate me from the only family I had left.

"Time to wake up, Miss Blackthorn." I wake and see Thomas, already wearing his uniform. I groan in distaste; the University's uniforms are hideous. Almost as horrid as the dress Mother always wears. Of course, I never tell her that, and when I'd ask why she always wore it, she beat me the entire night.

But Mother still cares for me, so I ward her from all evils, whether I like it or not.


	3. Chapter II - Lucie Herondale: The Siren

I see her first, since I sit by the door in this schoolroom.

Principal Lightwood, with her scar of honor. Behind that wretched mark is a face full of beauty, I have to admit. There are rumors that she had Ascended, and was a mundane before, acting as a maid for the same Institute I live at back in London. By the way my parents try to avoid the subject, I know the rumor is true fact.

I am about to stand up and open the door, as it locks from the outside, but when the door swiftly opens by itself I roll my eyes. The open rune is Marked on the doorknob. I'm about to face back to our teacher of this class, Professor Fairchild, who teaches the boring curricular of Mundane Culture. I mean, we're Shadowhunters, why must we know of mundanes and what's happening in their world? The only thing that makes up for the class is the professor himself, who is as attractive as my love, Matthew Fairchild. I mean, they are cousins after all. But before I turn back to the professor, I catch two figures behind the principal.

I grin. She's back after a year-long hiatus.

Principal Lightwood knocks on the opened door. "Charles, we have two returning students for this class: Grace Blackthorn and Thomas Lightwood."

I lick my lips. Thomas always had that cunning stern look on his face. I don't know what he has to do with his adoptive-cousin. As the two walk in the class, I gesture Thomas to sit behind me. Grace walks all the way to the opposite side of the classroom. Smart, she understands not to mess with me.

Unfortunately for her, that won't stop me from messing with her.

After class, it is time for the supper period. I walk to the cafeteria and meet up with Cordelia, my _parabatai_. Thomas joins us along with my love, Matthew, and his _parabatai_: my quiet and timid brother Jamie. We eat contentedly, although I must surely admit, the food at the Idris University is terrible. It's the same with only a few additional food options from the Idris Academy I'd attended a few years back.

"So," Jamie coughs. "I hear that Grace is back also, Thomas?"

Thomas narrows his eyes at Jamie. "Don't tell me you still have feelings for her, Jamie. You've had years to get over her. Especially when she... got adopted after the fire."

That quiets down my bloody mess of a brother. He decides to leave the table and go Raziel knows where.

I bring all of us closer to whisper gossip now that Jamie's left. "It was only last night we returned from London to visit our parents back at the Institute. As I had a swell time conversing with Father and Mother, Jamie was out on the streets doing stunts and getting drunk as Lilith's children. And I always thought that _I_ was the outgoing one. It was too random; he'd gotten over Grace. It's like he knew that she was returning today, and all his feelings have risen. I just don't know how or why."

Thomas grows pale. "I... I must go back to my dorm. I apologize." He stands and quickly rushes to leave.

Cordelia flushes. "So... If he likes Grace once more..."

I shake my head. Poor Cordelia. Ever since she was young she had loved my brother. I've always convinced her she could do exceptionally better, but her feelings never changed. They even got closer throughout the last year when Grace left with her mother, the creepy old hag Tatiana.

I am so grateful for my gift. When I am eighty years old I may change my age to look like my mother: young and beautiful. Although we are yet to see if Jamie and I are immortal. Uncle Jem doubts it; Father is mortal.

We can only always hope.

"We'll do something about that bloody Grace, Cordelia. Do not worry. She will not steal back the heart of Jamie." I look fiercely into her chocolate eyes. She must believe what I say is true.

"You're right. Meet me back at the dorm when you're done with supper." She says farewell to me and Matthew.

I grin; he's right in front of me. "Well now it's just the two of us, love."

Matthew's been awfully quiet this entire time. Something must be on his mind. I wave my hand across his face to get his attention. He's spinning his pasta, not taking a single bite. When I finally get his attention, it's like he's been pulled out of a hypnotic trance.

He looks into my eyes. "Huh? Oh, it's you, love. I'm sorry, it's just Jamie's been different. Even before yesterday with his drunken acts. I'm just worried for him. This isn't like him at all."

I laugh at Matthew. "Maybe you should, you know, train with him. Tomorrow's a free day. Work out together in the Training Arena. You're an instructor-in-training, after all. Teach him the ropes."

He returns the grin. "Thank you, love. I think I will indeed spend time with Jamie. Well, I must go and get rest for tomorrow, then." He kisses me on the forehead as he stands to leave.

I hold back a gasp and smile at the person that is now in front of me, sitting my herself at the table adjacent to mines.

Grace Blackthorn.

Those wretched gray eyes. I do not know why Jamie compares them to a wispy smoke. They're more of storm clouds, waiting to cause the destruction of Alicante. And her fair pink skin is not like the shells of a beach, it is more like the burnt cancerous skin of a corpse.

Everyone sees a beautiful maiden wrapped in delicate cloths. I see a cannibalistic _thing_ that devours every heart she can steal. She is not a Shadowhunter in my eyes. She is the darkness of a siren.


	4. Chapter III - Cordelia Carstairs: Angels

Lucie smashes Grace against a stone wall in one of the girls' dorm corridors.

In the dark of the night, Lucie's eyes shine fiercely against Grace's. I've always been jealous of her eyes; they're a radiant sky. It's irregular for such a bright color to emanate, similar to Jamie's amber eyes. As for Grace's, hers were more of a delicate smoke, hiding inside a fireplace chimney.

Grace holds in a scream and gasps. "What do you want...?"

"Why are you back?" Lucie asks. She kicks Grace in the gut and forces her to sit, and grabs a clump of her serene ivory hair. "It's like Jamie knew of your presence, and now he's acting all weird again since the Cartwright house fire."

"I-I'm... no longer a Cartwright."

"Please. Stop calling yourself a Blackthorn. We both know Tatiana does not look at you the same way she does her dead Jesse. You're only a guardian to her, nothing more." She crouches down to Grace's level and pulls the hair even more. "So answer my question. Why. Are. You. Here?"

I have to intervene. Lucie's done this many times before, bullying the bloody mess out of Grace, but it's never been this physical. "Lucie, it's okay, we can deal with her later..."

"No." Lucie does not look at me. "Answer my question, Grace."

"My mother wants me to complete my studies." Grace gasps for air since Lucie's hand is wrapped around her throat.

"Then why would you even skip a year, hm?"

I run up to Grace and pull Lucie's hand away. "Lucie, you're killing her! You're gonna ruin her hair and face and we'll all know this isn't an accident."

Lucie gets up and looks shallowly back down at me protecting Grace, whose nose is bleeding. "You know, it's not fair."

"What's not fair? Skipping a year of school to take care of her adoptive mother?" I retaliate. I don't understand why I said this to my _parabatai_, and I'm all of a sudden shocked.

So is Lucie. "No one sees Grace as I do. All they see is an innocent-looking, fragile, and elegant, clean girl."

I get confused. "Because she _is_, Lucie. Don't you see her?"

"Remember that house fire, Grace?" She smiles evilly at her.

"So what?" Grace manages to say.

"Remember when the three of you were saved and sent to my Institute to heal? Your siblings were horrific. Burnt skin, bloodshot eyes... they looked like that of a wild animal." Lucie walks closer and crouches once more to eye Grace. "But you: you were as elegant as you are now."

I am confused. "How is she elegant if you just beat the bloody mess out of her?" I look at Grace once more and scream.

She's healed like nothing had happened.

My breathing is heavy all of a sudden. "What, how... how is that possible?"

"I knew that wasn't right," Lucie continues. "It was like a glamour. So slowly, I peeled it away. What I saw wasn't a surprise, but what was expected. You were burnt and shriveled like your siblings. Your true form, Grace. The one you wouldn't bother to heal after all these years. Cordelia sees you as you ought to be, but I still see a shriveled girl that's bleeding a horrific mess."

"So what?" Grace asks. "You can't prove anything to anyone. You can only see pass the glamour because of your grandfather. The _demon_."

"Greater Demon, fallen angel, whatever pleases you. Fact is, I'm pretty sure Jamie can peel away the glamour if only he knew the facts." Lucie stands again. "He was passed out that time at the Institute. I could tell him, and he could see the worst in you. That way, you'd be sent to the Silent City for rehabilitation for Raziel knows how long."

"Don't," Grace murmurs. "I have no feelings for James Herondale whatsoever. No need to fill him in with unnecessary information."

"Then take my advice and _don't_ lead him on," Lucie advises. "Don't speak with him, don't look at him, don't do anything with him. That way, he can return to his former self."

_And go back to me_, I thought, but choose not to reveal in front of this demonic Shadowhunter.

"So... what _are_ you?" I ask as politely as possible.

Grace shoots right up. "A Shadowhunter who didn't fight back and is stronger than this Herondale." Then she flees into the darkness, most likely to her dorm.

Lucie gives a sarcastic gasp and starts to walk back to our dorm.

"She's something, like me," Lucie tells me. "Her father was a Shadowhunter, and I heard her mother was a mundane."

I try to reason with her. "Then she must be normal. After all, your father was half-Shadowhunter half-mundane also."

"Yes, but he gave me this scar." Lucie pointed to her collarbone and pointed to the mark imprinted in her skin. A star.

"Touched by an angel," I whisper.

"Yes," Lucie agrees. "Grace has something to do with an angel, and I will find out."

Back at the dorm, I lie on my bed clutching my blade, Cortana. I have something to do with an angel also: the blade's hilt was constructed with a feather from Raziel. Melded into the blade was the famous inscription: _My name is Cortana, of the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and Durendal_. This blade was forged by Wayland the Smith and given to Tristan, the first of the Carstairs.

I am not supposed to have this. I remember complaining to Father on how I wanted the blade. He'd told me that the eldest got to receive the blade, and that he wasn't supposed to have it; his older brother died. I was quiet after that, and never complained again.

It wasn't until last night I received the blade. Yesterday was a free day, so I went to the Paris Institute to see how Mother was doing. Her illness was getting worst ever since Father died. She had moved back from London to be with her family, the Verlacs that run the Paris Institute. My brother Alistair, who already graduated at the Idris University, was trying his best to help our mother. But alas, things wouldn't get better.

He told me he was going to be in Paris for a long time, until... she either got better or died. And with that, he warned me something bad was going to happen in Alicante. I do not know what, and I didn't want to stress him with the questions. All he said was that Mother was muttering it in her sleep. So that's why he gave me the blade he earned, the blade of Tristan. I was shocked and honored at the same time.

If the dangers in Alicante have to do with Grace's returning, then I must find out what she is.

Because if I can prevent the dangers, Mother could possibly live. And I will use this blade to find out.


	5. Chapter IV - Matthew Fairchild: Enchant

**AN: Hey guys! You enjoying the story so far? If you have any questions, suggestions, feedback, or anything pertaining my fanfiction don't fret to post a review! I hope you're all enjoying my version of TLH so far.**

* * *

My witchlight casts an eerie glow across the Training Arena.

Jamie and I walk in, and it is empty like usual this early in the morning. I grab a pair of chakrams from the armory and toss them to him. As for myself, I fancy the flail, which is like a club with a chained spike at the end. We walk toward the ring and go to opposite ends. I draw the necessary runes on my weapon, as does Jamie.

Then we're ready.

I swipe my flail toward Jamie, and he fades into a shadow.

"Hey, no cheating!" I say. "Especially when it's this dark."

But I know exactly where he is when he throws one of the chakrams at me, giving away his location. I deflect the chakram and run towards Jamie, willing my weapon to twist its chain around him. He slowly gives in and becomes physical matter again.

I grin. "Never mess with me and a flail."

"It's the runes," he mutters. "A regular flail can't do that."

I raise my eyebrow. "Don't be so sure."

"I'm sure." Jamie sighs and retreats into the shadows once more, and my flail falls down with gravity.

Alright. Lucie's right, something is wrong with Jamie. "Something's up, isn't there?"

He turns physical and looks back to me. "I don't want you to worry about my petty predicaments, Matthew."

I sigh. "Yes you can, Jamie. We're _parabatai_, that's why I'm here for you. Whatever is bothering you, I know you can tell me. We'll go through this together."

Jamie scratches his head. "I'm not so sure."

I sigh. I do not want to bring this up, but I must. "Jamie, remember when we first met?"

He nods. "Yes. It was our first year at the Idris Academy. Why?"

"Remember _why_ we met?"

Jamie thinks for a moment, and gives a chuckle. "Yes. You were crying."

"And why was that?"

"Your... your parents died."

I hold in my feelings and nod. "Yes. That caught your attention but you made me feel better. Ever since that day I knew I wanted you to be my _parabatai_."

Jamie nods and walks up to me. "And we are now."

"So you should trust me, if I'd trusted you all that time back before we even knew each other."

He nods. "Very well then." His back turns to me and starts walking. "As you know, my love for Grace Blackthorn—"

"Cartwright," I correct.

"She wishes to be part of the Blackthorn family, and I respect that," Jamie explains. "Anyhow, my love for her stretches back to our times back in England. I saw her once, at a funeral when we were all so young. It was like I was enchanted by her... I must have been six or seven years of age. But ever since that day, I never saw her again. She never came with her parents to the Institute meetings, _if_ her parents even went to them.

"It was not until six years later, when I was twelve, that I saw her. A week before Christmas, during a snowy December. I was walking around the streets. Somehow I was drawn to this small little manor house; it could have housed a mundane family. I knocked on the door, and she answered. Grace answered, but I did not know her name at the time. Her father, Cedric, was with her, and we talked. By the looks of the runes on her, I knew she was a Shadowhunter. I asked if she was going to the Christmas celebration at the Institute. Cedric quickly interrupted her, saying they celebrate as a family only.

"He said I could come late and celebrate with them. I asked what he wanted for Christmas, as did I ask Grace. Cedric desired an ancient tome, written in languages I did not know of." Jamie shook his head. "I was so foolish. I only wanted to please the Cartwrights. Grace, her present was... special. I do not remember her present, nor do I still have it as it most likely incinerated in the house fire that occurred that Christmas. The book made Cedric go mad, and he nearly killed us all if it weren't for my father and Aunt Jessie.

"According to Lucie, I was knocked out for nearly a week. But when I'd awakened, Father told me the three triplets of the Cartwright family have been given away for adoption; Cedric had died." Tears streamed down Jamie's face. "I thought I was the cause of it all. I still think that. To never see Grace again... until we registered to the Idris University. Where I saw her. Regardless of her surname, I recognized the enchanting beauty.

"My Grace Cartwright. But when she broke my heart, that fateful day when I was only fourteen, I... I couldn't take it. For two years, I was flustered. Then she left. I was happy again, and Cordelia helped me greatly. It was not until a few weeks ago that I could tell... the enchantments were returning. They were close, which was what got me so mad. Not the rejection, but something else. It was as if someone was eating my heart and soul, and it causes me great pain to this day."

Jamie walks back to me. "Do you understand my predicament, Matthew?"

I nod. "Yes, yes I do. And I think I know why this is happening to you. Come on, follow me."

"Where are we going?" Jamie calls back.

I turn around for a quick second. "To my cousin, of course. Charles Fairchild."

When we reach his schoolroom, Charles groans. This is his first year teaching, and he is the youngest professor, teaching at only twenty-four years of age. His mum, the Consul, must have had influenced the staff of our university to accept him. But so far, he seems to be stressing deeply.

"What is it, Matthew? I'm about to go to bed." Charles packs his items in a bag.

I raise an eyebrow. "Charlie, it's four o'clock. If anything, I'd assume you woke up early like Jamie and I."

Charles slaps his face. "Goodness... I was too busy grading papers I lost track of time." He sighs and sits back at his desk. "And what is it you want?"

I gesture Jamie to sit next to me at a desk in front of Charles. "Charlie, you teach mundane curriculum, correct?"

He nods slowly. "Sadly, yes. What of it?"

"Wasn't there a unit on human myths and legends?"

He looks offended. "Yes, I taught you all that at the beginning of the school year, which was only two months ago!"

"So, what was that Greek myth again? About the women who could use their appearances to lure men and eat them?"

Charles looks down for a moment. "Yes... They're the... the sirens! Really though, Matthew, you wake this early just to ask me this?"

"No!" I protest. "Just tell me the story of the sirens. Remember, all the stories are true."

"In some shape or form, yes. Well, in this myth, the sirens came to be cannibalistic when they were cursed by the goddess Demeter to search for their maiden, Persephone, when she was abducted by Hades. Their song, the Melody of Persephone, was enchanting... But soon they were forgotten and took homage on an abandoned island. Their song enchanted their appearances to young maidens, but when men got to the island, their true appearance took form: horrific charred hags. They'd feed on the men." Charles shakes his head. "Why did you want to—"

Realization crashes upon me. "Thanks, cousin. Jamie, we must go now!"

Jamie is as confused as Charles. "Matthew, what's a myth—"

I grab Jamie and pull him back to our dorm. I lock the door and turn to him. "Grace is a siren."

Jamie suddenly feels so much better and laughs. "You're kidding with me, Matthew."

"It's true! Charlie said myths are true in some shape or form. Grace is a siren in some form; she's not one of the original ones, but her powers originate from them. That would explain why you feel like your heart and soul is being eaten, it's because Grace's powers are mentally devouring you due to your heartbreak. It's like she had cast some spell or enchantment on you."

"Matthew," Jamie explains slowly, "she is a Shadowhunter. Her father was a Shadowhunter, her mother a mundane. Shadowhunter blood is dominant. Even so, mundanes can't have siren-like abilities."

I sigh. "I guess I shouldn't hide this slither of truth from my _parabatai_. My love, Lucie—your sister—can see pass Grace's glamour."

Jamie shakes his head. "_What glamour!?_" He is getting frustrated, I can tell.

"Lucie's eyes are keen. Yours can be too, if you just believe, since you have the blood of a Prince of Hell. Grace's glamour is part of her siren-like enchantment, which is why you are always drawn to her and always gaze at her during class. You being drawn to her little manor house is like the sailors in the Greek myth being drawn to the siren's island."

Jamie's amber eyes glisten. "So what's behind the glamour?"

I grimace. "A monster. A mentally-cannibalistic woman whose body is still burnt from the house fire nearly six years ago."


	6. Chapter V - Alistair Carstairs: Stolen

Mother's illness gets worse as the days drag on.

I worry hour by hour to see if her health has changed at all. I can't lose her, not like I lost Father nine years ago. I don't know what I would do losing both parents at such a young age.

_Get over it. Many Shadowhunters lose their parents younger than you are, including me_. The voice of Noémi Bellefleur echoes throughout my mind. What she claims is true; the Bellefleur Manor is vacant and will stay that way until Noémi is eighteen, which is this Christmas. Until then, she lives in the Paris Institute with me and the other Verlacs, my mother's side of the family.

Mother's murmurs echo again and again in my mind. Things such as _Alicante is in danger_ and _The fallen angel's revenge_. She only says these things when I'm alone in the infirmary with her; when the other Verlacs or Silent Brothers come, she is in hush mode. Even when my cousin, Brother Zachariah, is in here. I decided it was best to keep these things to myself, the only other person I've told was Cordelia. After all, she's Mother's child also.

_It's also the reason why I had to give Cordelia my prized possession, the blade Cortana_. I honestly didn't want to do it, and regret doing it. But I know that it was the right thing to do; Father would want me to do that.

The Silent Brothers do not know what is wrong with Mother; all they say is that she is in a coma and will awaken when the time calls for it. How unhelpful can the Brotherhood be? I even personally asked Jem if he could do something, but alas, he is still the newest and youngest Silent Brother and knows not how to fix it.

I sigh in the recliner I am in and look at Mother. Her hair is a ginger delicacy, like Cordelia and I's flaming scarlet hair. Her eyes are closed as if she were sleeping, her arms folded upon her chest as if dead.

"Mother... _s'il vous plaît_." _Please_. I rarely speak in French, but my mum always encouraged Cordelia and I to do so. It is weird when coming out of my mouth, as I have a British accent, but nonetheless, I hope Mother can hear my desperation.

As if Mother heard, she begins to stir. "Al, the blade..."

I gasp and jump towards her. "Yes, mum? What is it?"

"Cortana... Join it with the others... The fallen angel's bane... It is the only way." Then Mother falls back into her coma.

"No, Mother! What others? Whose bane? What _is_ the bane?" I sigh in frustration and think.

_I am Cortana, of the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and Durendal_.

The other blades. I have to find the other blades to defeat a fallen angel in Alicane. Is that how Mother will wake? I guess I have no other choice but to do it. I run to the library and find an old flat book with frail pages I assume might fade into dust as soon as I open it. Fortunately, it doesn't as I search the Wayland family's history. I read about Wayland the Smith and the blades he'd forged.

Cortana is under the Carstairs' possession, so I skip over to Durendal, the blade entwined with the Matter of France. Ironic how I am in France right now. I skip over paragraphs of its transfer and how Roland supposedly hid it in his body. I find the family that owns it, and hold in a groan when I read the family name: Bellefleur.

Noémi has it.

I rush to her room in one of the many corridors of the Paris Institute and knock on her door. Please be here... Fortunately, she opens the door and raises an eyebrow. Her luminous green eyes capture her image in contrast to her pastel blonde hair.

"What is it that you want, Carstairs?" Noémi asks.

I rush straight into it. "I need the blade, Noémi. Please."

She groans. "Don't you have your own seraph blades? Goodness. Here, you can have this one." She opens her drawer and hands be a glowing silver blade. "Summon the power of the angel Armaros with it."

I shake my head. "No, keep that. I mean _the _blade. As in your family's weapon."

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" Noémi asks. "You know I'm an only child, and that my parents died around a decade ago. I have no family weapon."

I sigh in agitation. "Nothing? No heirloom?"

"Not every family has an heirloom like the Carstairs," she mutters.

"That's not what I meant," I try to reason. "It's just that, I read a book from the library about the three blades. You know, my family has Cortana. Yours has the possession of another blade: Durendal."

She shakes her head. "My parents never mentioned an heirloom weapon, Carstairs. Even if there was one, it would be hidden somewhere in the Bellefleur Manor, which I won't be able to get access to until this Christmas... which is one month from now." She taps her fingers on the door. "Even then, why should I show you this... heirloom? If it even exists, that is. Roland, its wielder, hid it. It's supposed to be lost."

I grab Noémi by the shoulders. "Look, Noémi... My mother, she _talked_. She told me I needed the blade triad, and that Cortana is one of them. On its inscription is the name of the others, and the book I'd read said the Bellefleurs have the right to Durendal. We need these blades to save Alicante, which is going to be endangered by a fallen angel."

Noémi slaps my hands off her shoulders and shakes her head. "If you say is true... No. I have zero access to my manor house. It's warded from me."

I raise an eyebrow. "Is that what they say, or did you actually check it?"

Noémi blushes. "I... Fine. I've explored the house every week for the past year. To, you know, get the feel when I move in. We best go now as it is late. No one will notice a thing."

Once we reach the Bellefleur Manor, I eye Noémi. "So there's no... ward, correct?"

She laughs mirthlessly. "It's warded from demons and mundanes, yes, like the Institutes. But no ward from Shadowhunters."

"Then we shall go."

I follow Noémi into the large manor, made of smooth stone and marble. Statues line the yard's path to the porch, and inside I am guided to the drawing room.

"There is a blade," Noémi explained, "at the drawing room's fireplace mantel. It is a stunning piece; I assumed it was just art. After all, it's tucked inside a scabbard of fine design and runes, inside a glass case."

She leads me to the back of the room where the fireplace lays dead and cold. "It's right..." She did not finish her sentence and I know why.

The glass case had been smashed, the blade and scabbard stolen.

"That's not possible." Noémi begins to panic. "I was here just last week, it was fine and... No. This can't be. Only Shadowhunters may enter, no mortal can pass the ward to steal anything. Why would a Shadowhunter..."

I shake my head. "No, you are right. This isn't good. Someone must not want us to defeat the fallen angel."

"My heirloom... _lost_. I've failed my family." Tears begin to roll down her face.

I hug her and comfort her, telling her everything will be fine. "We'll find it. Don't worry. Your parents will show you the way to the lost heirloom."

Noémi wipes her tears and pushes me away. "Wait."

"What?" I ask.

Her voice is hushed. "The third. Joyeuse. Where is it?"

"Oh, don't worry," I explain. "It's heavily guarded by mundanes at The Louvre Museum, not far away from here. I figured we get your blade first before trying to... _borrow_ the mundanes' precious weapon."

"We have to go. _Now_." Noémi grabs my arm and pulls me away to our carriage out front.

After deathly anticipation from our ride to The Louvre, we run into the locked museum and rush to Charlemagne's prized possession: Joyeuse.

Except once more, we are too late.

"Looking for this?"

Noémi and I turn around and see a male figure in the shadows. By his voice, I could tell he was about our age. The glittering hilt of Joyeuse shines in the shadows, but his face is still in the dark.

"A pity, how late you both are. You'll never catch me, you know." The male figure walks away slowly, taking his time to leave, as if he were mocking us.

I want to run, but I don't. It's like the figure gave me an order I must follow. Noémi doesn't follow the guy either. We both just groan in desperation, watching the him laugh as he leaves the building.

Then we gasp for air, and I fall on to my knees. "What was that?"

"I don't know, but he was able to convince us so strongly... I don't know what happened."

I shake my head. Two legendary blades stolen in one night.

Which meant only one thing: Cortana is next.

Cordelia is the figure's next target.


End file.
